An Uncomfortable Subject: Suicide

I’ve written about this before. We don’t want to talk about it, and we really don’t like to listen to others talk about it. I’m talking about suicide. There’s no easy way to talk about suicide. Unfortunately, suicide comes into many conversations these days. I suppose it’s not surprising with the way our society is spinning out of control. But I’d rather not go there especially now when so much is against us. But this is the month that gives me an appropriate pause, for my sister took her own life in September. My family didn’t expect it nor did they expect how it would change our lives. There’s no going back after a suicide.

Remember Robin William and His Suicide

I’m not a movie buff, but I saw enough of Robin William’s acting to know there was something extraordinary about him and his acting. His will made his suicide became one of those tragic losses you remember and don’t forget, like Princess Di in a car crash and President Kennedy when he was shot. The upset about William’s death left a residual impact on a family, school, community, nation, and world. Suicide has a ripple effect that touches everything in its path.

My Family’s Impact from a Suicide

My family was a devout family of Christian believers. Suicide touched us all. I now rarely think of my sister nor think of how we lost her. It doesn’t take much, though, and my mind hitches a ride back to her death by suicide and exactly how much it affected me and my family. There are no words. I can’t tell you exactly how awful it is to lose your loved one by their own hand. My sister was beautiful, talented, and successful woman. Her life touched many lives. The sorrow of her death almost buried us. Disbelief and sadness engulfed our days as we traveled to Oregon to say goodbye, bury. to her. It’s a terribly harsh thing, even now.

Even My Kids Couldn’t Help but Be Sidelined

My children were also impacted by Lois’s death. She was their ‘fun’ aunt, always bringing them kid-friendly gifts. The oldest ones especially didn’t understand. How could they? My oldest daughter tried to comfort me, which I appreciated more than I can say. And my oldest son was tried and true in his understanding of the situation. We all hurt. We all grieved. We all wished she was still here with us. My parents are now free of her death since they have gone to heaven and are now with their everlasting Savior. I believe Lois is with them. I will always miss her for as long as I live.

Learn and Grow: Never Stop–No Matter What

I have found peace in my own way. About ten years after Lois’s death, I asked God to heal me of the hurt in my heart that was associated with her passing. Eventually, the pain lifted, peace entered, and sorrow lessened. Publicly, I share now since I know it will help others feel less alone in their suffering. At least I can say good things came as a result of her passing. We are more demonstrative that we used to be. We have become more compassionate and understanding, less set in our ways and less rigid. We show more concern and emotion than we did before we lost my sister. We are a changed people. We have learned how God truly uses our past heartaches as a way to bring comfort to others during their times of misfortune.

Here’s a Remarkably Genuine Thought You Can Take with You

God can, will, and wants to help you deal with your problems, troubling stuff, and everything and anything that matters. God is here. He wants to help you. You may feel alone but you are not. The problems may be overwhelming which would be no surprise, but He always welcomes you. I know God will help you. No matter what, he is always with you. God always and abundantly cares. Call out to him. He is so interested in you and your life. You can’t surprise Him. His arms are ready to give you a great big hug. I must tell you, though. He waits till just the right time to answer your call. But don’t worry, he will answer you and at just the right minute.

Until later,

Norma

My Final Goodbye to My Sister, Posthumously

1976, The Brumbaugh Family. Lois is third from left in the back, I’m in front.

A month ago I came across the words I said at my sister Lois’s memorial service. As I remember her life this year on the month of the anniversary of her passing, I wish to share with you what I said that day.

I still feel this way even after all the intervening years. My family was devastated due to the nature of Lois’s death. Our grief was intense, our shock, immense. I wept while I wrote these words as we traveled to Oregon to say our final goodbye to my sister. My heart lay shattered in a million pieces.

* * *

Verbatim, My Words On that Day.

1993, Memorial Service for Lois Brumbaugh

“I’m Norma, a sister of Lois. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Lois, so I want to share what I feel at this time.

Lois–

You were my friend in the days of dolls and dress-up. Always my little sister and biggest fan. As children, we worked and played together. I was often impressed with how you did things. You always did them well–and with a sincere heart.

I remember the days of piano lessons and singing with my sisters. You had such a beautiful gift with the piano. My love for you was clear. You were always my special little sister.

From my five year vantage point…I felt with you as you went through the experiences of growing up into adulthood. I saw so much in you that was exceptional and good. I’ve been so proud of you and your accomplishments. You achieved, you persevered, you always made friends. You forced yourself beyond intense shyness.

You also struggled. There were some difficult years for our family, when we all dealt with troubling issues. I was aware that you felt these things deeply. It wasn’t easy for you, but you just tried all the harder.

Lois, I want to remember many things about you that I admired. You had real class. You were pretty, kind, witty, smart, compassionate, musical, fun, and great with you nieces and nephews. You were a beautiful person.

Many times you lifted me up with encouraging words and cheery cards. You made me feel that I was important and had something to contribute. How I loved you and still love you.

On this day I just want to say that I wish I could have shared your pain.

I recall our Grandpa Brumbaugh saying that rarely do we hear a sermon about “hope.” It seems to be forgotten. He was right. We need hope. Love and faith are complete when hope is present.

So, Lois– this is my attempt at saying goodbye. My sorrow is great. But I know your presence will be with me and all of us always. We will miss you more than you can know.

I’m looking forward to some bright morning when it is my hope and belief that we will embrace once again in God’s perfect land, and I just can’t wait.

Your loving sister, always,

Norma”

* * *

Then this from the past.

This morning I was reading a manuscript I wrote in 2014 (but never published) from my visits to the Vina Monastery, when I came across a passage regarding the loss of my sister, Lois. It was written in September. At the time, I was remembering and grieving her loss like I always do in September.

At the time of the writing, I was sitting in a tiny chapel and praying. I had just walked past a statue of the Shepherd Boy, David that was erected in memory of a CSUC student who had died from suicide in 1986. The statue was donated by the family in his memory. As always, I felt his family’s pain.

As I was reading this a couple hours ago, tears came to my eyes. I saw Lois again in my mind’s eye. Her graciousness and beauty spoke once again. I hope her life speaks to you.

Gone but not forgotten.

This comes at the end of a lengthy prayer session while contemplating in the silence, as the Spirit whispers to my spirit.

“Your sister, Lois, you always sorrow for her this time of year.”

I do. I miss her. I will always miss her.

“She taught you the meaning of love. She loved well. It hurt her in the end. You can’t have love without me. I was calling her, but she wasn’t listening. She never knew my joy. I wanted her to know my peace and joy. It came too late for her. Lois was a special flower. Vibrant. Beautiful. Lovely. She had a genuine quality about her. She didn’t want to be fake. I used her to touch people. I will still use her through your pen. She will sing again.”

Thank you, dear Jesus. Amen

September, 2014